


"You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy."

by Likorys



Series: Tumblr snippets [13]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt's peculiar in bed, M/M, because it's easier this way, by which mean sensitive as fuck, the main one being good sex, then comes Jaskier who is delighted to take care of his wicher in all the best ways, which he learnt to hide and control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likorys/pseuds/Likorys
Summary: There are many things wrong with Geralt he blames on mutations. Some of them - like the way he behaves in bed - cannot be blamed on them, so he learns to deal with them. Then comes Jaskier and tears down all the carefully build walls, but Geralt might just like this more than whatever was before.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr snippets [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651510
Comments: 17
Kudos: 544





	"You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy."

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote by Andrea Gibson.

Geralt learns that he must be broken, that there must be something wrong with him a few times. His mother abandoned him, so his own mind readily supplies the cruellest reason and he’s a child, so he believes. He’s given more potions and mutations during his trials because he shows so much promise and that can only mean that yes, he was neer normal.

Then comes an embarrassing lecture about sex that is given to all new witchers and Geralt learns, once more, that isn’t what he’s supposed to be.

He’s heartbeat is as slow as it should, even more so than the others. He has as good control over it as them, too. And yet, when they are thaught to _plan their visits to the brothel_ because slow hearts mean taking a while to get going, and then a long time before they finish-

It’s wrong. They are locked in Ker Morhen for the entirety of their adolescence, of course he masturbated to pass time and it’s- _not_ like the grizzled teacher explains, dry as if he was describing the best way to kill werewolves.

For Geralt it’s always short and overwhelming and he’s worried enough he goes to talk about it with Azmer, even if he feels like dying through the whole conversation before he’s dismissed.

Because **okay** , yes, it might take a while to get it up so he plans for the evening and yes, it does last for a good while unless he forces himself to calm down which only leaves him more aching than before he started, because he can control the heartbeat, but not the hormones pumped into his blood with it… so he tries to tell himself it’s nothing to worry about. Maybe just lack of experience, like Azmer said.

He tells himself that for two years before finally stepping a foot in a brothel. He finds a pretty woman, pays and then goes after her to a room.

It’s a disaster. She’s kind enough to not mock him outrights, but just like she can’t truly hide her fear under perfumes, she can’t fully rid her voice of the mocking and condescension. He tries to ignore it and indulge, then keeps himself far away from the town for a year.

It goes the same the second, the third and the fourth time. By the fifth, he hears the whores whisper about him _getting a reputation of an easy lay, just stroke him a little or grind on him for a while and he’s done, just be ready to keep it up for a while and you won’t have to work too hard._ He wouldn’t mind, but then the blond whore she chooses asks him if all the witchers are like that and he’s _mortified_.

First, because he doesn’t want to add to the tons of rumours already going around. Second, because it would make the other witchers know about how broken he is. Third, because those like Lamber would never let him live it down and he’d prefer to not avoid Kaer Morhen until the bastard dies, since winter on the road is torture.

So, in desperation that makes for wonderful ideas as often as it does for terrible ones, he tries to keep in control.

It works, in a way. He makes sure to take care of the woman first, like always, so his heart has time to speed up, but then keeps control over it as he sinks into her heat, not letting himself lose focus as he fucks her into well into the night and only relaxes enough to come when she actually begs for respite.

He barks if there are any more rumours she’d like him to dispel and then stands up to wash off, forcing his cock to soften so he can dress up and leave.

He avoids sex for a while, until he trusts his control enough to make himself behave human enough and not leave even more wound up than he starts off. He does overpay and asks for silly things in exchange, to lie down close for a while or to have his hair stroked, to try and replace sexual satisfaction with simple closeness. It doesn’t help, he still leaves tense as ever, only partially less horny, but it’s better than nothing.

He gets used to another thing wrong with him and dealing with it.

Then Jaskier comes and he’s-

 _Kind_. It’s the only thing fully describing him and how he acts toward Geralt and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He’s kind as he sings about him, repairing his reputation. He’s kind as he touches him, a pat on the arm or a brush of shoulders or head falling onto his back when they ride together. He’s kind when he tends to his wounds and helps patch him up.

He’s so kind that Geralt finds himself wanting more. To feels his touch on naked skin and heal his lovely voice break and hear those flowery praises directed at him. He’s good in bed, decades of doing it in full control of every move made for a lot of skills for him to pick up and he’s _good_.

He’d be good for Jaskier, he’d be able to take care of him so bard won’t have to stray for so many nights from his side, won’t have to deal with angry husbands and wives at his tail ever again-

He never voices it, of course. He stims in his desires, watches Jaskier perform and glow like the sun itself and keeps unwanted erections hidden under tables before he forces himself calm, and ignores it (only letting steam out in brothels, but that changed - he no longer overpays as much and there are no more silly requests, because those things he only wants to feel from one set of hands now, and those are not for sale).

Then comes one evening. Jaskier is doing his usual sing and dance - literally, because he’s prancing around the tables, skin glistening with sweat in the dim light of the candles and Geralt clutches his tankard hard enough to make the wood groan and beer seep at his hand.

He licks it off without thinking, still trailing his gaze after Jaskier and trying very hard not to imagine how else he’d like to put his lips and tongue to use.

“The ale that good, huh?”. Jaskier laughs, breathless, reaching to steal the tankard and then makes a face before putting it down just as soon, shaking his hand and sending droplets of ale around. “Or just a shitty mug. Really, what do we have to do to get decent-” he drops at Geralt’s lap and they both freeze.

Because Geralt let himself relax too much and now Jaskier knows, looking at him with those bright blue eyes open wide and-

Geralt’s mouth hangs open and his nostrils flare at the sudden wave of heat and spices, very clear arousal and all coming straight from Jaskier who- just moved on his lap, pressing his hip right to Geralt’s erection and grinding down with a wide smile.

 _Fuck._ He should push him away, because Jaskier is devilishly perceptive and will notice something and it might be what finally pushes him to abandon Geralt, but _he can’t, not when he wanted it for so long, not when Jaskier is so kind and it seems soo good it might just work despite how much Geralt’s experience tells him it will crash and burn._

So he grabs Jaskier’s hand, licking the beer off his skin and sucks the last two fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping at the calloused fingertips, tender from hours of playing. He isn’t looking at him because those blue eyes became his weakness years ago and he needs _control_ right now (because Jaskier sleeps around so much that surely only Geralt on his best might have a chance of satisfying him).

He does hear bard suck in a breath and feels him shiver against him. There is no way to take it innocently, not with the way Geralt watched him the whole evening, right?

“Say, don’t we have a room upstairs?” Jaskier leans in, the ghost of his breath tickling at Geralt ear as blunt fingernail drags across his lip, leaving his skin tingling.

Geralt’s up before he has time to think how much of a mistake it might be, easily throwing Jaskier over his arm.

“Get my lute first, you dog!” Jaskier, instead of being afraid or even startled just laughs and gives Geralt a slap on the ass which almost makes him ignore the request just to get them alone in a room faster.

But he’s used to stomping down on lust-haze now, so he grabs the lute case filled with coins and the instrument itself before going upstairs. He does throw is all on the table before letting Jaskier down just enough to push him against the door, hands grabbing at his waist as he hides from Jaskier’s eyes again, nosing at his neck and inhaling deeply the sweet spice of his need, as strong as his own, tongue licking sweat off the flushed skin.

“Fuck!” Jaskier grinds against him and pushes his head aside, fingers grabbing at witcher’s clothes before settling on clutching at his hair. Geralt growls and bites at his skin, careful not to break it before he soothes it with soft licks. “Nhhh…” Fingers puls at his hair and Geralt shivers, biting down again just to make Jaskier do it more.

Jaskier laughs, still breathless and arches his back to grind against Geralt who now shivers from the effort he has to put into keeping calm enough no to come right away, but not so calm he’d go soft.

It’s like balancing on a blade and it helps him keep control.

“You gotta tell me what finally did it…” Jaskier gasps, his hips moving slowly against the witcher as he plays with his hair, pulling at it whenever he feels teeth at his skin. “I’m gonna do it for the rest of my life!” he whines as he feels a bite just under her ear, making his back arch and pulling at Geralt’s shirt again.

Geralt sucks at the skin, dragging his teeth down and breathing in the musk and the smell of pure lust that now encapsulates Jaskier like a cloud.

He moves them to the bed, kicking the lute and the case down, coins rolling all over the floor. Jaskier slaps at his arm with a disgruntled protest, but Geralt’s too busy unlacing the bright blue doublet all the way, before giving up and riping the last few hooks off.

“You’re such a brute…” Jaskier bemoans his clothes and pushed at Geralt’s chest, to shrug the doublet off and inspect the damage.

He blanches back, eyes wide and looking Jaskier over, terrified he did something wrong and that it was too much, an apology ready on his tongue-

“Shh, darling, it’s just clothes…” Jaskier throws the doublet away and moves closer, fingers brushing at Geralt’s cheeks. “Come and give me a kiss and I might just forgive you, hmm?” he smiles, but Geralt finally is forced to look into his eyes and the need is mixed with strange shyness and Jaskier’s fingers twitch against his skin.

He’s not nearly as sure of this thing as Geralt expected him to and, somehow, it helps him relax. Just a little, not enough to lose control, but enough to find it again.

He does lean in, brushing their noses together before he closes his eyes and kisses Jaskier, licking at the seam of his lips before pushing in.

Jaskier moans, hands grabbing at Geralt’s shirt again and tugging incessantly. His lips open and a curious tongue slides over Geralt’s own, then his teeth, pushing at the sharp edges and he feels the shiver under his fingers, where his hands wormed under Jaskier’s chemise and are splayed across his back.

It’s dizzying, how much Jaskier seems to want him and how kind his every touch still is. Geralt pulls back to start getting rid of their clothes only because he’s not sure how long he keep in control.

He growls as the laces of bard’s pants tangle in his finger and Jaskier pulls back with a little laugh, to take them off. Geralt just watches for a moment, entrances as he looks over the flawless skin and finally doesn’t have to do so in hiding or while waiting for the moment he’d need to stop.

Jaskier’s smile is indulgent and his scent is mellowed by sweet, tangy notes of true affection and Geralt rips his own pants in the haste to get naked and finally push Jaskier down.

To feel his skin and the way shivers travel across it, to see how his blush slowly spreads across his chest. He might take too long because suddenly Jaskier’s hand has wormed its way between his legs, grasping at his weeping cock and he shakes with a punched-out moan, almost losing it.

“You sound positively delicious…” Jaskier sighs, fingers rubbing at the slit to gather precum before stroking at the shaft, his own erection hard against Geralt’s leg. “I’m impatient though, so if you’d be a dear and found my pants to take out the oil I’d be ever grat-mhhh…!”

Geralt silences him with another kiss, before moving to reach for the discarded clothes and taking out a vial of oil, clear sign Jaskier was _prepared_ , for whoever might catch his fancy this evening _._

Something ugly rears its head and he pushed Jaskier down, holding his wrists as he licks and bites at his neck, right by his ears to make him moan so nicely and leave bruises he’ll never manage to hide with clothes.

He puls up only to pull out the cork with his teeth and spit it to the side, then kisses Jaskier again as he coats his fingers with oil. He hopes he read the bard right, but just in case he keeps his touch gentle as he brushes them over Jaskier’s cock, stroking it lazily for a moment before he pushes his palm lower.

It’s not that he’d be opposed to taking him instead, but it’s that much harder to keep in control during _that_ and he’s afraid of messing it all up. And he can’t mess this one up, not with Jaskier, not when it seems like someone might actually enjoy being with him.

But Jaskier moans under him and pushed his hips down, so Geralt spreads his legs a bit more and drags his finger between his ass cheeks, rubbing at his hole.

He keeps it slow and gentle, spreading the oil around before he pushed a finger in, focused on keeping his breath level.

“Mhh, fuck, you’ve got nice fingers… _use_ them!” Jaskier moans, pushing his hips down again and Geralt can’t help but huff out a laugh, letting bard’s hands go.

They find his hair again, pulling as soon as Geralt adds another finger inside and spreads them open. He goes back to kissing Jaskier’s neck and shoulders, then his chest, feeling his every breath and the vibrations in his throat as he moans and then suddenly screams.

“Fuck, right there!” Jaskier’s heels dig into his back, trying to push him closer and Geralt relents, twisting his finger before pushing them deeper, stroking at the same spot.

He didn’t keep to only bedding women, but he never expected to be glad about it. It’s definitely paying off right now.

Jaskier’s outright keening now, arching off the bed as Geralt moves his hand in shallow little pushes, dragging his finger across the same place and using the way pleasure relaxes Jaskier to add third and then slowly fourth, despite the moans becoming more and more pleading, a hand scratching at his back impatiently.

He’s more than aware of his own size and he’d rather risk Jaskier losing patience and calling it off than ever hurting him.

Geralt’s patience if not infinite, however, so soon he’s withdrawing his fingers to reach for the oil. It’s leaning over a crumpled sheet and half has already spilt onto the bed. He pours the rest onto his cock, squeezing the base in a reminder to himself to keep in control and not fuck this up just this once.

“Come on, witcher, don’t tell me you’re all bite, but no ba- _agh_ , fuck!” Jaskier shuts up as soon as Geralt pushed inside him, blunt nails clawing at his back and thighs shaking against his sides.

He holds Jaskier by his hips and slowly pulls him down, sliding into him a good bit before pushing back, then rolling his hips before he pulls bard closer again. Slowly, despite Jaskier’s litany of curses and praises, until Geralt’s fully seated in his tight heat and has to breathe into dark hair to keep in control.

He tries to focus on Jskier’s words and that’s a mistake.

“Aaah, yes… just like that, nhh, I swear I feel you in my _throoat_!” Jaskier moans again, dragging the words as he arches off the bed and shifts his hips, pulling Geralt impossibly deeper in and shaking. “So much better than I- so good to me, ugh, you’re gonna ruin me _for life_ , you know that? You feel so perfect-!”

That does it, the soft word and delicate touch and heady spices of lust in the air all around them. Geralt loses control, pushing deeper and coming with a groan, rutting against Jaskier for a good moment before he stills, painting against his arm, hiding his face away.

Jaskier lets out a short laugh and Geralt feels a cold shiver run down his spine. He’s ready to move up, move away, an apology and a promise to do better ready on his tongue, but-

Then Jaskier speaks up.

“Glad to see you enjoy me _so much_.” he says, with a cocky smile as his fingers play with Geral’s hair. “Does wonders for my ego, you know?” He chuckles a little, shifts his hips with a low groan because Geralt is still hard and balls deep in him.

Just panic is not enough to make his body loose interest, not without his conscious effort. He _should be_ making that effort, to stop and apologize or at least to get his emotions back under control, but-

Jaskier didn’t even come, but his scent changed, from pure lust and need into the sweetest affection and Geralt chokes on it, his lungs feeling like they might burst with how fast his heart is trashing against them against his best efforts to slow it down.

His arms slide under Jaskier’s back and he holds him close, as tightly as he can without hurting him, still gasping for breath and shaking.

“Shhh, I can wait, darling… you feel _amazing_ and I’m honestly glad for a break.” Jaskier twists a little, grinding down again with a shiver, but he stills as soon as he can turn his head and start kissing at Geralt jaw, cheek, neck, whenever he can reach and it almost makes it all worse.

Geralt’s supposed to be in control, not break apart at first tender touch. Take care of Jaskier, not once again throw his issues at him to deal with!

He gives himself last, selfish moment to just take advantage of this bliss, then puls himself up to grab at Jaskier’s hips, pulling him closer again.

“Mhhh, you feel so gooood!” Jaskier moans and arches lazily, his eyes half-lid and glossy as they look at Geralt with the same pure adoration that’s so thick in the air he can taste it on his tongue. He squeezes him and Geralt groans, pushing at him almost without thinking. “Ohhh, yes, like that… as soon as you’re ready, darling… I can wait.” his blissful smile turns a little cocky for a moment. “I’ll _never_ let you lie it down, I hope you realize this - but trying to fuck it out of my memory just might work~!” he taunts and licks his lips.

The silly little threat doesn’t scare Geralt - despite many tales of conquest, Jaskier is surprisingly sparse on any details about his partners - but it does remind him to get his act together.

“You’ll forget how to _speak_ , bard,” he growls into Jaskier’s arm before moving to hold him by the hips.

Jaskier’s rebuttal is lost in a scream as Geralt moves, sharp ad fast, angling his hips until he’s brushing the same spot as before. The tight heat of Jaskier’s body is amazing and the way he clings to Geralt, scratching at his back and pulling him in makes him dizzy.

He forces himself to keep in control, breathing hard as he keeps a fast, hard rhythm, trying to find all the best angles to make Jaskier feel good and _just maybe_ to get him to come again so he can let go as well.

“We’re so- talking about this- I swear!” Jaskier’s leg lock around him, keeping Geralt close and rutting against him futilly as he pulls his hair to make their eyes lock. “ _Let go_ , you silly witcher, I won’t break… I promise.” he whispers against his lips before kissing him, slow and soft. “Come on now… let go and _relax_ , I’m loving every second so far and I doubt you can change that.” he almost croons and Geralt would be insulted if the words didn’t make his head fuzzy and his chest tight with desperate want.

He starts moving again, fast and needy, sweat-slick skin slapping with each thrust until he spills inside Jaskier again, pushing at him to get as deep as he can, his breath laboured.

He leans forehead on bard’s arm, shaking, but when he tries to pull away Jaskier’s legs lock around him again, heels digging painfully into his kidneys and making him stay put.

“More, witcher.” Jaskier’s hoarse by now, nails dragging on Gealt skin, on his neck and along the curve of his spine. “I said let go and relax, I’m not going anywhere… we have all the time we want.” he whispers to his ears, teeth biting at the lobe and Geralt keens, rutting into him in jerky thrusts.

He starts moving again, his body over-sensitive, pleasure buzzing under his skin until it feels like he’ll melt from it. When Jaskier quizzes him almost painfully tight and arches off the bed, he comes almost instantly, with a moan that sounds suspiciously close to Jaskiers name, before collapsing on top of him.

Jaskier kisses softly as his jaw and neck, one hand petting his hair and another stroking his back as he shakes. He’s mind is fuzzy with pleasure and he feels boneless - he thinks Jaskier came too, his body seized like he did, but he didn’t feel him come between them and it’s confusing-

“Oh, don't you worry, darling, I got _exactly_ what I wanted.” Jaskier drags blunt fingernails at his hip and Geralt’d glad his blush is hidden in bard’s skin.

He can pull back now, slipping out of Jaskier, but still hard. He sits back and tries to level his breathing, to calm himself and maybe hope to get a moment to just lay close in the bed, but then Jaskier grabs at his chin and forces him to look up.

“We’re so not done here.” he laughs and it’s almost evil, his free hand going down to wrap around Geralt’s cock and stroke in sharp, perfect movements that make him gasp and lean into it.

He should be taking the control back, before Jaskier gets bored of his issues and they have that talk he mentioned, but he can’t, not when bard’s leaning in to kiss him so softly again.

He allows himself to be pushed onto the bed, grimacing as the wet sheets cling to his leg.

“Don’t make a face, darling, you’re gonna look even worse when I’m done with you.” Jaskier bites at his lip and Geralt shiver at the dark promise in his tone.

He’s not sure what he expected, maybe something light that would mean nothing, just like it seemed to be at the start, but Jaskier’s too damn perceptive and clearly saw much more than he’d like him to and decided to do something about it.

“We’re out of oil, but I can improvise.” Jaskier’s hands stroke at his shaking thighs as he spreads his legs and Geralt tries to just focus on breathing. He can at least put some effort to not take advantage of Jaskier, who he’s sure now only came once if at all, so it’s hardly fair to expect him to service Geralt even more-

Then those pretty lips wrap around his cock and Geralt arches on the bed with a whimper, hands clutching at the sheets. It’s not impossible to get someone on his knees for him, but it is rare and he gets it - he can see Jaskier’s lips stretch around him and feels him choke when he’s barely halfway in. It’s still amazing and somehow even better with Jaskier than with anyone before, maybe because he smells so sweetly with pure affection, maybe because his eyes are so soft with real emotions, maybe because there is no fear or disgust in the air.

Geralt can’t decide, and when Jaskier pull up and them takes fully into his mouth, throat tight as he swallows around him until Geralt’s coming straight into it, he can barely think about anything else but wanting more.

Jaskier pulls away at the end, liking at the head and stroking him gently trough the finish, then he puts fingers into his mouth and slicks them up with his seed mixed with saliva. Geralt shudders as they slide along his cock, then lower and finally push into him. His legs shake where they rest on Jaskier’s shoulders, heels pushing at his back and fingers grabbing at his hair just to hold, never to force him because _he would never_ , no matter how drunk on ecstasy he is.

Jaskier takes him back into his mouth and brings him over the edge two more times, another finger added after each one, and by the end of it Geralt is a panting mess, whining whenever the fingers pull back, stroking at his insides and yet not nearly enough.

He wants more, he wants Jaskier in him and closer, close enough to hold him and to get something to keep him grounded because he feels like he’s gonna break at the next touch-

“Shhh, darling, it’s okay.” Jaskier pulled up at some point and is watching him with half-lidded eyes, free hand stroking at Geralt’s thigh, mouth kissing lazily at the other. “Do you want more? Can you be good for me and come again, with me inside you?” he whispers against his skin and Geralt can’t find his voice, so he just nods desperately with a needy whine, unsteady hands brushing bard’s hair from his face.

Jaskier smiles, biting at his skin before he lets Getalt’s legs down to sit up. He strokes himself with a hiss, eyes squeezed shut, an image so nice it makes Geralt twitch and arch on the bed, panting.

Jaskier laughs, a little breathless and leans closer to kiss him, briefly.

“You’re so good to me, darling… absolutely perfect, you know this?” he whispers, hands holding his knees apart and cock rubbing at his hole and Geralt whines, pleading and desperate. “Yes, you look so lovely like this… I’m gonna wreck you and you’ll let me.” he gasp and them finally pushes in.

Geralt gaps out all the air in his lungs, arching off the bed and coming as soon as he feels him fully in, the stretch perfect and the weight of Jaskier’s body on his even better.

“Fuck!” Jaskier’s hips rut against him for a moment before he stops himself, shaking and looking at Geralt with such adoration in his eyes he almost comes again, just at the sight. “Oh, I’m never letting you go, you’re so good to me, Geralt, so perfect, darling…”

It gets a little fuzzy after that. He can’t remember last time he came so much - it’s been decades since he let himself go completely, but Jaskier loves it, praises him in such a soft voice and even softer words, asking _can you do one more, can you go a little longer for me, can you come again_ and calling him darling, voice wrecked and more and more breathless but never faltering-

His face is wet and he honestly can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears, clutching at Jaskier and breaking apart under him.

Bard comes inside him twice before he starts going soft and pulls out. He still brings Geralt to a close one more time with his hands after that, before it starts becoming too much. Whimper gets out before he can keep it down and his hips pull back, his skin raw and so oversensitive it’s more pain than pleasure.

“Shh, darling, we’re done…” Jaskier moves away and lays his legs down, then cuddles close to him despite both of them being covered in sweat and come and being generally gross.

Geralt appreciates it, because he doesn't know up from down for a moment and hugging Jaskier close is the only thing keeping him from panic. He slowly comes to - the afterglow hot and pleasant in his muscles, seeping into his bones; the room reeking of sex, but with sweet notes of pure affection mixed in; Jaskier’s hands gentle as he strokes at his chest and arm, passing scars without a second thought; his breath hot against his skin; his hair tickling as he noses at his neck, drunk on his scent.

“….thank you.” he starts, his own voice hoarse and low, but doesn’t know what to say after that without revealing too much.

Jaskier hums, a smile stretching at his lips, still red and puffy.

“Glad to be of service.” he jokes, but it makes Geralt mind jump into work and go into hyperfocus, remembering the oil in bard’s clothes and how skilled he was, thinking of being one in a long line and it makes him shudder.

Jaskier sighs and, impossibly, cuddles closer, practically laying on top of Geralt despite the stickiness.

“I can be faithful, you know?” he taps his fingers on his collarbone. “If that’s what you’d want, darling.” he adds, careful.

Geralt thinks for a moment, if this is what he wants, wonder if _he_ can be faithful and good enough for Jaskier, imagining all the ways it can go so horribly wrong, but finally, he nods his head.

Jaskier’s smile is radiant and his eyes are so adoring as he kisses Geralt that he wants to drown in them and never come back up.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired once again by a post by @goldandlights and the notes, to be found here: https://goldandlights.tumblr.com/post/611618881729069056/youve-heard-of-witchers-have-incredible-stamina


End file.
